"Mr. Brady, you and mother a'n't acting very wisely, I think," said Kike. "Ye've noticed us, thin," said Brady, in terror. "To be sure I have." "Will, now, Koike, I'll till you fwat I'm thinkin'. Ye're pecooliar loike; ye don't know how to sympathoize with other folks because ye're livin' roight up in hiven all the toime." "Why don't you live more in heaven?" "Will, I think I'd throy if I had somebody to help me," said Brady, adroitly. "But I'm one of the koind that's lonesome, and in doire nade of company. I was jilted whin I was young, and I thought I'd niver be a fool agin. But ye see ye ain't niver been in love in all yer loife, and how kin ye fale fer others?" "Maybe I have been in love, too," said Kike, a strange softness coming into his voice. "Did ye iver! Who'd a thought it?" And Brady made large eyes at him. "Thin ye ought to fale fer the infarmities of others," he added with some exultation. "I do. That's why I said you and mother were very foolish." "Fwy, now; there it is agin. Fwat do ye mane?" "Why this. When I was here before I saw that you and mother had taken a liking to each other. I thought by this time you'd have been married. And I didn't see any reason why you shouldn't. But you're as far away as ever. Here's mother's land that needs somebody to take care of it. I am going away never to come back. If I could see you married the only earthly care I have would be gone, and I could die in peace, whenever and wherever the Lord calls me." "God bliss ye, Koike," said Brady, wiping his eyes. "Fwy didn't you say that before? Ye're a prophet and a angel, I belave. I wish I was half as good, or a quarther. God bliss ye, me boy. I wish--I wish ye would thry to live afwoile, I've been athrying' and your mother's been athryin' to muster up courage to spake to ye about this, and ye samed so hivenly we thought ye would be displased. Now, will ye marry us before ye go?" "I haven't got any license." "Here 'tis, in me pocket." "Where's a witness or two?" "I hear some women-folks come to say good-bye to ye in the other room." "I'd like to marry you now," said Kike. "I must get away in an hour." And he married them. They wept over him, and he made no concealment that he was going away for the last time. He rode out from Hissawachee never to come back. Not sad, but exultant, that he had sacrificed everything for Christ and was soon to enter into the life everlasting. For, faithless as we are in this day, let us never hide from ourselves the fact that the faith of a martyr is indeed a hundred fold more a source of joy than houses and lands, and wife and children. _CHAPTER XXXI._ KIKE.